


Fitting the mold

by SinNotAlone



Series: Niche Kink November [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Chubby Kylo Ren, Coercion, Dom/sub, Feeding, M/M, Weight Gain, niche kink november
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-27 16:12:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8408167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinNotAlone/pseuds/SinNotAlone
Summary: Fill for day two of Niche Kink November: Chubby kink / Weight gain / Feeding. Hux encourages a thicker Kylo and closely assesses his progress.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Chubby kink was highly requested for Niche Kink November. That said, it takes a little finagling to make it work for me kink-wise, so this is a relatively Hard chubby fic.
> 
> View the whole kink list [here](https://sinnotalone.tumblr.com/post/151322332363/some-of-us-here-in-kylux-hard-kinks-land-were-a).

The spoon could stand on its own in porridge that thick, Kylo thinks. He hates the way it coats his tongue, viscous, smothering. When he attempts to swallow, it feels as though the walls of his throat might stick together. And it lingers, a film on the roof of his mouth that no amount of water can wash away.

The repulsive texture of the food is partially Kylo’s fault. He dawdled his lunch time away, stirring and poking at the bowl. To be honest, the flavor isn’t bad. There is sweetness and a mild spice to the rich paste. It reminds him, in a distant way, of holiday breakfasts with his mother, although perhaps that has more to do with the way he is eating under observation rather than the flavor of the food.

Architectural feats and excavations fill the breaks between his bites. He piles up slouching ramparts and digs a shallow moat. For the final touch he spears his spoon into the highest point of the mushy keep. It stands for a moment like an oversized heraldic banner, but soon starts to teeter to one side. It falls and clatters on the rim of the bowl. Kylo holds his breath, waiting for the reprimand.  

Hux’s eyes jerk up from his datapad to land on Kylo’s blunder. A trench has formed between his brows. It’s so often there that Kylo imagines before long it will be permanent, weariness wearing its way into flesh.

Hux growls, “I don’t have all day to observe your antics, Kylo. Cut it out and finish the bowl.”

“I’m full.” Kylo’s voice is low, stripped of the haughty tone that usually colors his retorts.

“That’s not of consequence. I establish how much you will eat. You eat it. The sole thing you need to consider is how to get the food from that bowl into your mouth.” Hux lectures in the fashion of a teacher who has heard every possible excuse, like he is tired of even acknowledging the existence of Kylo’s resistance.

“If I eat any more, I’m going to explode,” Kylo pleas. He really is uncomfortable. His stomach bulges against the band of his underpants. They’ve grown tighter lately, so it doesn’t take a lot before they are biting into his skin. He’ll need new clothes before much longer, but as of yet, Hux hasn’t permitted their purchase. Kylo doesn’t know when Hux will deem his current wardrobe too obscenely tight.

“No one ever died from a few extra bites of porridge. You want to please me, don’t you Kylo? Want to show me that you can be a good boy. For me?”

“Yes,” is Kylo’s weak reply. He does want to be good, wants it so bad he can taste it beneath the hint of bile at the back of his throat. He scrapes his tongue against his teeth and swallows, attempting to prepare himself for another bite.

Hux plucks up the utensil. It looks elegant in his fine fingers, so unlike Kylo’s clumsy paw. The spoon scrapes the bottom of the bowl, and Hux brings a hefty dollop to Kylo’s mouth. It looms in front of his face, but he just stares at it, watching the contents quiver. His final bluff at the end of the siege.

“Then open your mouth.” There’s no “or else” tacked on to the end of the command. The threat is implicit. Or else you’ll feel the bite of my belt. Or else you won't be allowed release for a week. Or else you’ll finish a second bowl, and if you so dare spit it up, you'll spend the day cleaning up your mess. Kylo has learned that there’s always an _or else_ lurking beneath each command. Positive reinforcement and punishment in equal measures, that’s the most effective way to mold a boy, or so Hux claims.

Kylo acquiesces with an exhale through parted lips. The spoon knocks against his teeth. The congealed texture of room-temperature slurry makes him want to gag. He sucks the spoon clean.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Kylo doesn’t voice his response. His mouth is full and one does not talk with a full mouth. He shakes his head, letting the food marinate in his saliva.

“Swallow. It doesn’t count if you just sit there with your mouth full.”

In one big gulp, Kylo swallows it. He cringes as the lump slips down his throat. He can feel it pass to rest at the top of his stomach. They repeat the process until nothing but a caked-on residue is left in the bowl.

Hux places the empty bowl on the shelf at the entrance to his quarters. The service droid will pick it up on its next round. He closes back to Kylo and sets his palm against Kylo’s forehead. His eyes are creased with concern, like the cause of Kylo’s discomfort is illness rather than their deliberate plan.

Hux’s mock concern fades and his fingers whisper from forehead to cheek. The hand traces along the edge of Kylo’s jaw. Kylo wonders how long it will take for the sharp bones to soften, his severe edges all filed away.

Still wearing the guise of the lecturer, Hux provides his assessment. “I think you’ll get used to it with a little more training. You’re certainly getting farther on your own than you did when we started. ”

Hux’s thumb glides up to press on Kylo’s lips. This time, Kylo is eager to part them, and he runs the tip of his tongue along the smooth digit. The first taste is of a bitter antiseptic soap, but Kylo sucks until he gleans the salt of Hux’s skin. His tongue worries at the crease of Hux’s knuckle, flickering as if he were servicing a rather different part of his anatomy.

Hux’s expression alters to one of increasing ardor as Kylo suckles. A flush creeps up from his collar and across his cheeks. Just as his eyes begin to hood, Hux withdraws his hand and commands, “Come on, get up. Lose the pants and follow me. You know what comes next. We can’t want to wait too long or accuracy will suffer.”

Kylo shucks off his underpants and follows Hux into the refresher. Amidst the spartan fixtures, a collection of measuring equipment is scattered. There’s a scale tucked in the corner, and a set of calipers and a measuring tape wait next to the sink.

Hux taps his datapad and gestures to the scale. “Let’s see how much progress you’ve made.”

Kylo steps onto the scale. He pointedly ignores the number, afraid of seeing that he’s failed Hux. Hux does the looking for him, craning his neck to read the output. His finger scurries over the keypad and he notes, “Nearly on track but not quite at the mark.”

Hux exchanges the datapad for a measuring tape. He unwinds it and pulls it tight around Kylo’s bicep and chest, waist and thigh, breaking between each measurement to note the number in his records. His touch is detached, lifting Kylo’s arm or spreading his legs as necessary, but he doesn’t linger. His focus is on the numbers. Kylo feels like a beast at the market, being scrutinized by a potential buyer. He's surprised Hux doesn't inspect his teeth while he's this entranced with his task.

For his final assessment, Hux moves on to the caliper. Kylo isn’t sure what function it provides. It doesn’t appear a terribly precise instrument, and Kylo suspects its purpose is more show than utility. Kylo’s suspicion is compounded by the fact that Hux gives his wandering hands priority over his punctilious method at this stage.

The caliper pinches the flesh around Kylo’s midsection, the little tines bite into his skin deeper than Kylo believes is necessary for the measurement. Hux reaches with his free hand to make a note, keeping up the guise of research, but when that hand returns, it skates around Kylo’s hips to cup his ass.

Hux makes an approving murmur and comments, “You’re finally starting to fill out. I don’t know where the first 10 kilos went, but it wasn’t here.” He accents the final word with a firm squeeze. “But now you’re almost a decent handful. I knew this would plump up like a dream.” Hux accents his observation with a smack to Kylo’s ass. It jiggles in a way it never did before.

Hux releases and rotates the caliper, and with the recording of one final number, he pronounces Kylo’s daily assessment complete. He locks the datapad with a flick of his thumb and sets his tools aside, freeing both hands to explore Kylo’s body. His stern fingers knead Kylo’s ample chest. “You were always well endowed, but now these are practically tits. Look how big they’re getting. So good for me, aren’t you? Every day getting that much closer.” His palms form a support, and Hux pushes Kylo’s pecks up and inward. Kylo can feel the skin bunch over his sternum in an imitation of cleavage.

Kylo draws his bottom lip into his mouth, running it between his teeth. He doesn’t let his gaze drop. Below his ample chest, he knows his cock is standing proud. Instead he settles for closing his eyes, letting his head hang in peace.

Hux continues, “Soon you won’t recognize yourself. You’ll look in the mirror and wonder what happened, where that boy went. How long will it take? Another month? A whole year?”

Kylo shudders. Liquid fire rushes from his belly to his cock. He latches on to the idea of becoming a different person for Hux. Then a new thought both terrifying and infinitely appealing flits through Kylo’s consciousness. Will Hux be satisfied once he has achieved this goal or will he find other ways to worm himself into Kylo’s being? Take him one facet at a time and mold him into something completely alien.

Hux’s fingers dig into his skin, each nail a thorn in his chest. His timbre drops to a guttural tone as he warns, “It won’t be your body any more. It’ll be mine, the way I made it.”

Before withdrawing, Hux lets his hand run down the no-longer-flat plane of Kylo’s stomach. His final touch is a brief brush against Kylo’s rigid cock. It isn’t even a stroke, just a cruel little tease. Hux mocks, “Looks like you like that idea, don’t you?”

A sharp inhale kills the whine threating to escape. Kylo bucks forward, following Hux’s hand, but it’s already gone. By the time Kylo opens his eyes, Hux is walking out the refresher door. Kylo heels without prompting.

“Get dressed, but don't bother with the pants,” Hux says, approaching the pile of black fabric that waits by the door. Before he takes his meals in Hux’s quarters, Kylo strips to his underpants. Hux has let him know that observation is just as important as measurement in keeping him on track.

The leggings are always a challenge to put on, becoming all the more so every day. He stretches one leg forward then to the side, trying to shimmy down into them. With the way his thighs have grown, the seams feel close to bursting. It’s pointless to ask for a bigger pair. He knows Hux will deny the request.

A sucked in breath and a yank and Kylo pulls the leggings up over his hips. The padding on his stomach ripples over the top of the pants. The dense knit fabric constricts his stiff cock, bending it downward, chafing without the intervening layer of his underpants. He shifts his pelvis in discomfort, but between his hardness and the overly tight pants, there’s no relief to be had.

Hux has kept his distance. He leans against the wall, arms crossed in front of his chest. He need not touch Kylo for him to be aware of his control, he need not even be in the same room. It’s written across Kylo’s skin, from bulging thighs to soft abdomen.

Kylo bends forward to gather his shirt and Hux comments, “Careful now. Move too quick and you’ll end up splitting a seam. It’d be a shame if you had to wear them that way for the rest of the day.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me about Niche Kink November on [Tumblr](http://sinnotalone.tumblr.com).


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